


dig your heels in

by whatthekey (sardothien)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: AU - Check Please!, Alternate Universe - Hockey, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6778045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sardothien/pseuds/whatthekey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after a month off the ice, Jongdae can still feel where the movements are still engraved deep into his bones. The routine had won him the junior championship exactly one year ago. Without anyone else to watch him, the rink is a ghost town, but he can still hear the cheering in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dig your heels in

Jongdae is seven years old the first time he falls on the ice. He's wearing mittens, but the cold still cuts past the knit, sharp into his palms. His knees are damp and freezing where they've hit the rink, but the flush on his face is hot and embarrassing.

"Get up, Jongdae. It's okay. Just try again."

And so Jongdae follows the coaxing words of his father, who is reaching for him with an outstretched, gloved hand. He remembers how his legs had wobbled, unsteady on the slick, glassy surface of ice, but even more than that Jongdae remembers the heaviness. Even at seven, Jongdae already knows that the pressure building behind his ribs is wrong. No seven year old should have to be carrying this weight, but Jongdae skids forward into his father's arms and the heaviness goes away.

His first mistake had been thinking that that was the last he'd ever see of it.

 

❆

 

Jongdae pulls his scarf up, shivering. It's chilly on his university campus—so much different from the mild winters back home. Here, the wind bites into his face and exposed skin like an angry insect, and no matter how many layers Jongdae puts on, he can't seem to get rid of the chill.

On campus, everything is old and comfortable looking, from the buildings to the trees to the students themselves. He finds himself thinking wistfully of the two years he'll spend here instead of the full four, but Jongdae reminds himself that the efforts spent at community college weren't for nothing.

A gust of icy air blows past his face as he walks past the double doors of one of the gymnasiums, and out of the corner of his eye Jongdae notices the ice rink. Before he can stop himself, he's already stepped in to peer down at the figures huddled in a small group near the sideboards.

Jongdae watches as the game commences, blurs of gear gliding back and forth between nets. It's completely controlled by the players—no ominous presence at the sidelines to make accusatory comments about their performance, no sense of _urgency to please_ driving their plays. There's a coach, Jongdae notes, but he's merely observing. From all he can see, the players are completely in their own world.

His pocket vibrates, and Jongdae pulls out his phone.

"Hi dad," he says, leaning back against the row of plastic seats. "I just got on campus."

"I was on the phone with the sports department." Jongdae frowns. As usual, his father forgoes any greeting. "They put me in touch with several coaches. I'm going to email you their phone numbers tonight."

"Dad," Jongdae begins. His hands are starting to go pleasantly numb.

"I'm concerned that you won't continue your training now that you've transferred. It's important for you to keep practicing."

Jongdae turns back to watch the game. "I know. But I came here for my _education_ , dad. That's the most important thing, don't you think?"

"Jongdae," his father sighs. "You can't forget the amount of time and effort we put into your training. You just can't let it go to waste."

"I know," Jongdae says again, but he's not paying attention anymore. His eyes are on a solitary player skating up to the goalie. Jongdae can't see his face, but he recognizes the way his body moves, all focus and direction, not the slightest bit of hesitation in his movements.

All at once, the heaviness is back, settling into his bones, mixing with the chill.

"Jongdae? Are you listening to me?"

His second mistake had been thinking that leaving home would get rid of it for good.

 

❆

 

Minseok looks up from his computer the moment Jongdae walks in the door. "How was exploring?"

Jongdae kicks off his ratty converse. "It's beautiful," he says. "I wish I'd have more years here."

Minseok nods, taking a long swig from his mug before going back to his work. Since moving in with him a couple of weeks ago, Jongdae has learned that Minseok's diet is composed of ninety percent caffeine and ten percent protein powder. When he isn't furiously coding for his grad classes, Minseok is barricaded in their school's rec cen. Jongdae likes him readily. He's quiet and unobtrusive, which is exactly the kind of company Jongdae has been needing.

Jongdae wanders over to the kitchen to rifle through the fridge. "Hey," he says, after a moment. "What do you know about the hockey team?"

"Mmm." Minseok pushes back from his desk. "Not much. Supposedly we sucked a few years ago, but recently I've heard we've gotten pretty good."

"Ah." Jongdae plops down on the couch in their living room. It's the default furniture that comes with university apartments—a bit too hard for his liking, but Jongdae isn't complaining.

"Why?" Minseok turns around to stare at him. "Do you play?"

Jongdae shakes his head. "Just wondering."

 

❆

 

The rink is slick and glossy at six in the morning. Jongdae tests his skates gingerly, digging in with his heels, as his breath clouds in front of him.

Almost idly, he starts to lapse into one of his old routines, letting muscle memory take over his body. Even after a month off the ice, Jongdae can still feel where the movements are still engraved deep into his bones. The routine had won him the junior championship exactly one year ago. Without anyone else to watch him, the rink is a ghost town, but he can still hear the cheering in his head.

Jongdae slowly glides to a stop, staring at the far end of the rink. It's empty, of course, but something tugs him forward. The blades of his skates cut fresh grooves into the ice as he pushes himself forwards and down, grace and posture forgotten. He swerves, slicing across sharply sideways before forging on ahead towards the end, sideboards coming up on in fast, twenty feet, ten feet, five—

With a spray of ice flakes, he stops, and then he's at the end, breathing heavily.

"Impressive."

Jongdae whips around, and meets eyes with a tall young man leaning against the outside of the rink. Heat floods his face, and Jongdae braces himself against the sideboards to steady himself.

"Oh," Jongdae stammers. "I wasn't—I'm not—"

"Oi, Baekhyun—" the tall boy calls over his shoulder, and that's when Jongdae sees what the boy has in his arms—helmets, padding, protective gear. "This guy might just be as fast as you."

"Bullshit," comes the next voice, and the person who follows it is scowling, with his arms full of other equipment. "No one's as fast as me."

The tall boy nods over at Jongdae. "This guy is."

Jongdae flushes again as the boy named Baekhyun drops his equipment at the rink entrance and skates over to him. "He's not even in the right skates," he says, gliding in a slow circle around him. "How is that even possible?"

More sounds come from the entrance, and Jongdae looks over to see other players carrying in the goals.

"What's going on Chanyeol?" The third voice catches Jongdae off guard. He turns back to the tall boy and his eyes fall on the person next to him. He's significantly shorter but undoubtedly older, and his brows are furrowed in focus.

Chanyeol jerks his head at Jongdae. "That guy just cut across the ice in what—how many seconds? He's fucking fast, Joonmyun."

Jongdae suddenly feels very naked as Joonmyun turns to take a long, critical look at him.

"You know, with what happened to Yixing,” Chanyeol continues, “we're gonna have to have tryouts anyway—how do you feel about—"

"He's not a player," Joonmyun interrupts him, and Jongdae feels embarrassment course hot through him. "He has the wrong skates," he says, echoing Baekhyun's earlier comment.

"But Joonmyun, he's fast—" Chanyeol's protesting. "I _saw_ him, he was just like _bam_ —"

"I don't care what you saw," Joonmyun says, voice resonating a deadening finality, before finally turning back to Jongdae. "Do you have permission to be here?" he asks him curtly. "We have the rink reserved on Saturday mornings."

Jongdae shakes his head. "Sorry—I didn't know—I'll leave—"

But Joonmyun has already turned away, and Jongdae closes his mouth, his face on fire.

Baekhyun smirks at him. "Best get going, probably," he says before skating off to help his teammates set up the goals and Jongdae is alone with Chanyeol.

Chanyeol stoops over to grab the stuff Baekhyun had left, then pauses. "You should come to tryouts," he says quietly, glancing over at the rest of his team. "I don't know who you are, but all I know is that you're fast as fuck."

"I don't play," Jongdae says quickly. "Honestly, I don't know what I was doing, I just—"

"Just come." Chanyeol is upright again, long arms full of equipment. "They should be sometime this month. Postings'll be online."

" _Why_ , though?"

Chanyeol looks at him, and it's different from the way Joonmyun had. It's open, accepting. "Dunno," he says finally. "I just think maybe it could work."

Jongdae swallows. "I don't want to cause any trouble."

Chanyeol's face suddenly breaks out into a grin. "You already have, dude."

 

❆

 

Jongdae lies back on his pillows, listening to the dial tone ringing once, twice, then a burst of static.

" _Jongdae_." Jongin sounds breathless and excited. Hearing his voice again makes Jongdae smile. "I was gonna call you yesterday, but I got so caught up I forgot, Jongdae, _we won!!!_ "

"What?" Jongdae sits up in his bed now, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. "Shut up, seriously?"

"Yeah," Jongin says, and he sounds so dazed, so effortlessly happy. "I couldn't believe it, I was crying all over Soojung—"

Jongdae listens to his best friend ramble, happiness filling up inside him like helium. All along, he'd known that they'd win. Jongin and Soojung were just too good of a duo to not place, and Jongdae has known this since they were young and learning jumps together. Even amidst the pride, Jongdae's heart aches for home, some thousand miles away, for his friends and his family.

"Your dad told me to try for the solo men's," Jongin is saying now, and he sounds sheepish. "But I don't think I'm really suited for that. You're much better at solos than I am. You've still been practicing right?"

"What? Oh yeah, of course." Guilt eats away at Jongdae's insides, but he does his best to ignore it. "I've been pretty busy with classes, though."

"I wanna try to fly out there," Jongin says determinedly. "I don't know when I could, with all the competitions coming up, but I'm gonna visit you, okay?"

Jongdae laughs. "Guess I have no choice in the matter, huh? I'll prepare our couch, but I should warn you it's not very comfortable."

There's a muffled voice in the background of Jongin's end, and Jongin makes a displeased noise. "I have to go, Jongdae. I'll call you this weekend."

"Don't overwork yourself," Jongdae tells him. "Watch your back."

"I will," Jongin promises. "Bye."

Jongdae'd barely hung up when there's a knock on his door. "Come in."

Minseok pokes his head through, looking haggard. "There's free pizza at the student center, and I need to get away from this script for an hour before I go crazy. Wanna go? 

Jongdae nods, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. "Let me just get my shoes."

"Who were you talking to?" Minseok asks him later when they're walking.

"My best friend," Jongdae says. "We grew up figure skating together."

Minseok nods absently. "You sound close."

"We are," Jongdae agrees. "It was really hard leaving home."

The student center is bustling by the time they arrive, lines of students queuing up for the promised free pizza. Jongdae and Minseok join the back of the line to wait their turn.

"Minseok!" calls one of the faculty from across the room.

Minseok waves back at him before turning to Jongdae. "Sorry, do you mind? It's my research advisor. I'll just be a few minutes."

Jongdae shakes his head. "Go ahead. I'll find a table."

Minseok goes over to meet his advisor while Jongdae scans the center floor for a free table. He spies one near the bookstore entrance and is just about to set his plate down when he hears a familiar voice behind him. Jongdae turns around.

"Pretty sure you're the only one who cares about the creative differences between the movies and the comics, Chanyeol." Baekhyun is carrying his own plate of pizza, though somehow he'd managed to get three times the slices they were allowed.

"All I'm saying is that they should have considered a different actor," Chanyeol says earnestly. "You know—to do it _justice—"_

Jongdae is about to sit down hurriedly when Baekhyun spots him. "Isn't that the guy?"

Chanyeol follows where Baekhyun is pointing and Jongdae sees his face light up before rushing over. "Hey—!" he stops, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, I never got your name."

"Jongdae," Jongdae says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry about the other day—"

"Hey, don't worry about it." Chanyeol is already setting his plate down next to Jongdae's, grinning boyishly at him. "You know, that was really incredible. I've never seen anyone skate the length of the rink like that before."

"You play with me three times a week, asshole," Baekhyun says, sitting down across from them. Jongdae glances back at Minseok helplessly, only to find that Minseok had sat down with his advisor, engaged in an animated conversation.

"You didn't see him, Baekhyun," Chanyeol insists, digging into his slice of supreme. "He was wicked fast."

"How'd you get so many slices?" asks a voice behind Jongdae, followed by another: "He probably flirted with the student worker," and suddenly more boys are sitting down at his table.

"You're going to make yourself sick." Jongdae recognizes Joonmyun's voice before he sits down at the very end of the table. He's not eating pizza, he notices, instead carrying bottle of water and a protein bar.

"Who's the new guy?" asks one of the boys. "You a freshman?"

Jongdae flushes. "Transfer student."

"Oh," the boy says, looking taken aback. "Sorry."

Baekhyun sniggers. "Stop asking everyone shorter than you if they're a freshman, Sehun."

"I didn't mean it like that," Sehun protests, pulling out packets of hot sauce from the pockets of his parka and squirting two all over his pizza. "He just has a young looking face."

Another one of the boys gives him a kind smile. "I'm Yixing. How'd you meet Chanyeol? Do you play hockey, too?"

Jongdae glances towards Joonmyun, but he's not even paying attention to him, instead going over diagrams with another boy at the end of the table. Jongdae turns back to Yixing. "No, I don't play."

"But he's wicked fast," Chanyeol says with his mouth full. "Saw him on Saturday."

"You know, if you keep saying that," Baekhyun says, clearly irritated. "I might just have to see this guy for myself."

Jongdae shakes his head quickly. "I'm really not—I'm nothing. I don't play at all."

"Well clearly, Chanyeol thinks you're so damned amazing," Baekhyun counters easily. "So I'm officially inviting you to tryouts next week." 

Jongdae stares at him. "What?"

"You're overwhelming him," Yixing says, laughing, reaching across to pat Jongdae's arm. "You don't have to listen to anything Chanyeol or Baekhyun say," he tells Jongdae with a warm smile. "They're kind of pushy."

Jongdae smiles weakly. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Rude," Baekhyun says mildly, turning his attention back to his pizza. "Gimme some of your hot sauce, Sehun."

A hand grasps Jongdae's shoulder, and he turns around to see Minseok grinning apologetically at him. Chanyeol stares curiously. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to ditch you."

"It's okay," Jongdae says quickly. standing up. "Let's go back." He starts to walk away from the table before pausing and turning around. "Nice to meet you guys."

"Come to tryouts, Jongdae," Chanyeol calls back after him. Baekhyun hits him on the arm, and Chanyeol puts him into a headlock, grinning at Jongdae.

Jongdae can't help but grin back, waving over his shoulder. Before he turns around, he glances one more look back at Joonmyun. Joonmyun still isn't looking at him at all.

 

❆

 

Jongdae looks up at the digital marquee, rubbing his hands together. His stomach churns, telling him that this is a terrible idea, but something makes Jongdae push his way into the rec cen anyway, reveling in the cool air of the ice rink.

The first few rows of bleachers are crowded with boys, and Jongdae's mouth goes dry when he sees that all of them have their own equipment. What had he been thinking, coming here?

Jongdae takes a few steps back and promptly walks into someone.

"Jongdae?" Chanyeol grins broadly at him. "You totally came!"

"Chanyeol," Jongdae begins. "This was a bad idea. I don't even have my own equipment, I'm just going to go home—"

Chanyeol drags him off before Jongdae can stammer out anymore and hauls him off to the locker rooms. It's empty when they enter, and Chanyeol promptly lets go of Jongdae's arm to unlock his locker.

"What are you doing?" Jongdae asks, confused.

"Had a feeling you'd show up," Chanyeol says into his locker, and pulls out a dirty duffel bag in one hand and a pair of worn-looking hockey skates in the other. "This is my old equipment from high school. I was skinnier then, so it should fit you." 

Jongdae's face floods with heat again as he takes them out of his hands. It's heavy. "But a hockey stick—"

Chanyeol presses one into his chest before Jongdae can continue. The grip tape is coming off at the handle and the blade is slightly warped inwards, but Jongdae's hands come up to hold it tentatively, almost reverently.

"Take care of it," Chanyeol says, and he's smiling. "It's old, but it's never let me down."

"Chanyeol," Jongdae says again, then looks down at the equipment in his arms. "I don't know a thing about hockey." 

"Sure you do," Chanyeol says, slamming his locker shut. "Number one, skate. I know you can do that already. Number two, get the puck in the goal. That one'll take more time, but it's not impossible. It's the last thing you have to watch out for."

Jongdae follows him out of the locker room, anxiety brewing in the pit of his stomach. "What's the last thing?"

Chanyeol grins at him before running off to the others. "Try not to get checked."

 

❆

  


Many hours later, Jongdae staggers off the ice and collapses into the first seat he sees. The equipment is extremely heavy, and he can feel blisters forming on his palms where the grip tape had rubbed up against his hands.

Across the rink on the other side, Jongdae can see where the team is huddled in discussion. Joonmyun is in the center of it, the frown on his face prominent.

The tryouts had been complete and utter hell. He was unused to skating with so much weight, and the gear had slowed him down. The hockey stick had been cumbersome and unwieldy in his hands, and he'd almost knocked over one of the younger students with the other end. To make it worse, Chanyeol’s skates felt clunky on his feet, and he had slipped several times without toepicks for support.

Jongdae sighs, pulling off Chanyeol's old helmet and running his fingers through his sweaty hair. The only redeeming part of the tryouts had been the speed test. Even with the extra weight, Jongdae had finished second. He remembers the look in Baekhyun's eyes as he'd watched him, sharp, critical, and calculating. It's more than he could say for Joonmyun, who never watched him for more than seconds at a time.

The clunk of blade guards sound from behind him as Chanyeol plunks down in the seat next to him.

"Congratulations, you didn't totally fuck up,"

"I am never doing that again," Jongdae groans, putting Chanyeol's helmet in his lap. "This was a mistake."

Chanyeol thumps him on the back. "You weren't terrible. Granted, you nearly mowed over Jaehyun with your twig back there, but that's easily forgivable."

Jongdae looks up to stare at him. "You're actually serious. You want me on your team."

Chanyeol gives him a thoughtful look. "There's not a lot that can shut Baekhyun up, you know, and he was quiet the entire time. You wanna know why?" He grasps his shoulder. "'Cause he was watching you. That means he's taking you seriously."

In spite of it all, Jongdae feels a small flutter of pride in his chest. "Your captain doesn't seem too fond of me."

A pained expression comes over Chanyeol's face. "I'll talk to Joonmyun. See if I can't get his head out of his ass."

Jongdae laughs weakly. "Thanks for inviting me out, Chanyeol."

Chanyeol grins back fiercely. "Don't thank me just yet."

 

❆

 

Jongdae can hardly believe where he is. All too soon, it seems, he's back on the ice, wedged in between two younger players who are much taller than him. Across the ice, Joonmyun stands with a clipboard, expression unreadable as he scribbles notes, the other players behind him.

"Everyone standing here has been admitted onto the team," Joonmyun says in a voice as unreadable as his face as he looks out at all of them. "Multiple factors have been considered in your admission—tryout performance, potential, and.... the recommendation of current players."

Joonmyun's gaze settles heavily on Jongdae, and Jongdae squirms under the blatant disapproval. "We will work with you to figure out who will be filling in for Yixing in official matches, but until then we'll just alternate."

Behind Joonmyun, Chanyeol gives Jongdae a thumbs up. Jongdae tries his best to smile back at him.

"For now, just watch practice," Joonmyun finishes. "Details will come later."

Jongdae follows the new players off the ice into the row of seats behind the sideboards, plopping down and pulling off Chanyeol’s skates.

"Those aren't hockey skates," one of the new players says as Jongdae unzips his duffle to put them away, and nods at Jongdae’s other pair of figure skates peeking out. It's not derogatory, only curious. Jongdae recognizes him as Jaehyun, the boy he nearly gave a concussion.

Jongdae shrugs, zipping the bag shut. "No, they're not. I'm a figure skater."

Jaehyun nods, appropriately impressed. "Always thought it would be cool to know how to do all those jumps and stuff. Can you do them?"

"Yeah," Jongdae says, and this time he's smiling for real. "Though it's been a while."

"Well, that explains why you're fast," Doyoung—another one of the players—comments, hanging over the back of Jaehyun's seat. "And good at turns."

Jongdae grins sheepishly. "I'm bad at everything else, though."

Jaehyun laughs. "Believe me, we could tell."

Jongdae allows himself to laugh with them, the tension in his body slowly dissipating.

Chanyeol skates over a few minutes in, face shining behind his helmet as he whips it off. "What do you think so far?" he asks, accepting the water bottle that Jongdae hands him.

Jongdae pauses for a moment. "Intense," he says, truthfully, because there's still so much that he doesn't understand.

"Hockey's not easy," Chanyeol tells him before taking a long swig. "It's tough."

Jongdae nods, looking down at his feet. "I know."

"You'll get the hang of it, though," Chanyeol says. "We'll help you."

" _Park Chanyeol, get your ass back here_."

Chanyeol winces, putting his helmet back on. "Gotta go. Later, scrubs," he says, before skating back to his position next to Sehun. Jongdae watches the entire thing curiously. He'd read up on the positions a few nights ago and learned that Chanyeol and Sehun were defense men. Kyungsoo—the guy who'd called back Chanyeol earlier—stands hunched in the goalie net. His overwhelming presence and sense of command makes up for what he lacks in height and build.  He can tell even Jaehyun and Doyoung are surprised when they see Kyungsoo in the net, but supposes it's all part of their strategy.

Up along the ice, Jongdae sees Yixing, whose ankle is wrapped in a significant amount of tape. Jongdae notices that he's not in as much gear as the rest of them, and thinks back to Chanyeol mentioning his injury. On the side closest to them, Baekhyun skates in tight little circles, almost not engaged with what everyone else is saying.

And, finally, Joonmyun. Jongdae watches as he directs the rest of the players with calm and focused ease, all business and crystal clear direction. Joonmyun plays center, Jongdae had learned, one of the most important positions on the team. It makes sense, considering he's captain, though it doesn't make Joonmyun seem any less unapproachable.

“Captain’s kind of scary, isn’t he?” Doyoung says with a nervous laugh. “Reminds me of my dad.”

 _Me too_ , Jongdae wants to say, but he pushes that thought clear out of his mind.

“He’s like really good though,” Jaehyun leans halfway out of his seat, clutching his hockey stick for support. “I went to all their games last year. Once he scored half the goals in a single game.”

Jongdae looks out at Joonmyun again, watching the way he instructs others. It’s all too familiar, he thinks.

Joonmyun suddenly leaves his place on the ice to skate over to where they’re sitting, and Jongdae feels Jaehyun sit up a little straighter next to him.

“Jaehyun,” Joonmyun says, completely skipping over Jongdae. “You’ve played center before?”

Jaehyun nods quickly. “In high school.”

Joonmyun nods back. “Okay, go out in my place. I want to watch you.” Jaehyun scrambles up as Joonmyun turns to Doyoung, once again ignoring Jongdae. “Are you fast?”

Doyoung visibly swallows. “Uh,” he says, glancing sideways at Jongdae. “I guess?”

Joonmyun gestures behind him. “Go to Yixing. He’ll coach you for left wing.”

Doyoung follows Jaehyun out onto the ice and Joonmyun begins the skate away. Jongdae’s heart sinks in his chest.

“Joonmyun!” he calls out. “Um, captain.”

Joonmyun finally, _finally_ turns to look at him, and Jongdae feels the heat rising in his face again, under the heavy scrutiny of his stare. “Yes?”

Jongdae fidgets with Chanyeol’s old hockey stick. “What about me?”

Joonmyun stares him down for a few more seconds, and all at once Jongdae feels utterly exposed, like Joonmyun can read all of his insecurities and doubts as plainly as if they were etched on his face. Joonmyun frowns, blinking twice.

“You can just watch,” he says.

Jongdae watches Joonmyun skate back to the team, face burning.

 

❆

 

Yixing smiles, gesturing him in closer. “Come up more,” he tells him. “You need to be up further in case Joonmyun passes to you.”

“You mean _if_ he passes to me,” Jongdae mumbles, but skates closer to Yixing anyway. They’d been playing a practice game for the past hour, each side a mix of starting players and benchwarmers. Joonmyun is on his team, currently at the center circle facing off against Taeyong for the puck drop, and Jaehyun to Joonmyun’s far right.

At the far end of the court Chanyeol and Sehun are playing defense for the other team, Baekhyun smirking at him from next to Taeyong.

“Try catching me,” he calls out to Jongdae as the puck is put into play.

Baekhyun hadn’t been lying—he’s _fast_. Baekhyun is gone almost the second the puck touches the ice, weaving in and out of the other players like a minnow in the water. Jongdae skates up frantically, Yixing trailing along the sideboards. Joonmyun has the puck now, and Baekhyun has his stick in the mix, trying to push it out of the way.

“Joonmyun!” Jongdae calls out before he can stop himself.

He can see the split second Joonmyun glances towards Jaehyun, who’s being blocked, before slapping the puck towards Jongdae.

It happens almost in slow motion—the puck flying across the ice towards him and then Sehun suddenly in front of him. Jongdae panics, and swings straight into Sehun’s shin, who goes down immediately.

The entire team is upon Sehun in a flash.

“Sehun,” Jongdae gasps, gripping his hockey stick tightly. “I’m so sorry—”

Sehun gives him a shaky grin, accepting Taeyong’s hand up. “No big,” he says. “Happens all the time.”

Joonmyun, however, is skating up to him furiously, his brows furrowed, Chanyeol right behind him.

“Hold on Joonmyun,” he’s saying, “it was an accident—”

But Joonmyun gets right up in his face, and Jongdae’s sure he’s burning hot enough to melt into the ice beneath him. “Are you sure you want to be here? Because I’m sure as hell convinced that you’re just here to mess around.”

“That’s not true, Joonmyun,” Yixing says quietly, pulling him back. “I vouched for him.”

“So did I,” Chanyeol adds quickly.

Baekhyun skates up from behind Jongdae, his face tight, but then puts his arm around his shoulder. “Me too.”

Jongdae turns to give him a weak smile, but the stony expression on Joonmyun’s face stays the same.

“Hansol, Johnny—” he says, without breaking eye contact. “Come play center and left wing for a little while.”

From the bench, the younger players clumsily pull off their blade guards and skid onto the ice, and Jongdae blinks at him. “What are you doing?”

Joonmyun isn’t listening anymore, already skating off towards the end of the rink where Kyungsoo is blocking for the other side. Joonmyun turns his head slightly over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Jongdae starts. “Y-yeah,” he says, skating after him. Joonmyun leads him behind the goalie net, then wheels around to face him.

“First, you have to bend your knees,” Joonmyun says, completely surprising Jongdae with the change in his voice. “I want you to get rid of all your figure skating posture. Get low and close to the ice.”

Jongdae nods, biting his lip as he follows Joonmyun’s instructions.

Joonmyun mimics him. “I’m going to use my shoulders and upper arms to push you. This is called a body check.” Without warning, Joonmyun rushes at him and gives him a shove. There’s not much force behind it, but Jongdae, who hadn’t been expecting it, still gets sent back a few feet. Joonmyun straightens up and nods at him before dropping again into a hunch.

“Now you try,” he says. “Try to focus on pushing me back, not pushing me over.”

Jongdae bends his knees and tries to skate forward into him. At the last second, he pivots on accident and his arm swings directly into Joonmyun’s chest. Joonmyun catches his elbow with a firm grip.

“That’s exactly what you shouldn’t do,” he says coolly, releasing his arm. Jongdae flushes. “If you use your elbows you’ll get penalized. Try again, and remember _back_ not _over_.”

Jongdae nods and crouches again, watching for the moment that Joonmyun drops his center of gravity, then pushes forward. Joonmyun had been expecting it however, and Jongdae is only able to budge him about half a foot. Jongdae realizes that Joonmyun must be built a lot more solidly than he looks, in spite of his height.

“Better,” Joonmyun says. “Pick up your hockey stick.” He pulls a spare puck out of his shorts and drops it onto the ice. “Try to hit it.”

Jongdae grips the handle and does what he says, making to slap the puck towards the other end of the rink when the blade of Joonmyun’s stick juts in and the puck goes flying. Jongdae stares up at him.

“That’s called a poke check,” Joonmyun says. “You can knock the puck away from your opponent however you want as long as it with the blade.”

Joonmyun goes to retrieve the puck and sets it down in front of Jongdae again. “Go ahead,” and Jongdae tries again. This time, Joonmyun slaps the blade of his stick down over Jongdae’s, effectively preventing him from moving it around. “That’s a press check. Lifting up their blade from underneath is also allowed. Just—”

He switches his grip to hold his stick shorter and makes a swinging motion. “Don’t swing with the shaft. This is cross checking, and it’s illegal. That’ll also get you a penalty. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Jongdae says, feeling slightly dazed. The fact that Joonmyun is actually talking and making eye contact with him is, in itself, overwhelming. “It’s just—a lot to remember.”

Joonmyun grins, shocking Jongdae with how aptly it lights up his face It’s refreshing, Jongdae thinks, seeing him like this. It’s nice to have Joonmyun’s attention on him. His face goes warm—this time not from embarrassment.

“Just try not to do anything that seems like it could hurt someone. Like elbowing or cross checking.” Joonmyun pauses for a moment. “Or boarding.”

“What’s boarding?” Jongdae asks.

Joonmyun slams him back into the backboards, and Jongdae lets out an _oof_ , stick dropping to the ice with a clatter. The safety glass wobbles dangerously, and it takes Jongdae a second to realize that Joonmyun’s face is right in front of him.

“This is boarding,” Joonmyun says in a low, quiet voice. “Only it’s about ten times harder. It can knock out teeth or give someone a concussion.”

Jongdae is much more concerned about the fact that Joonmyun’s arms are propped up on either side of him, pinning him back, but he swallows and nods. “Got it. No killing anyone.”

Joonmyun picks up Jongdae’s stick and holding it out to him. “I’ll have Chanyeol practice checking with you.”

Jongdae rubs the back of his neck. “Hey—captain. Thanks, you know, for this.”

Joonmyun smiles before turning away. “Just call me Joonmyun.”

 

❆

 

“Hey,” Jongdae says to the room, then pauses, facing growing warm

Everyone in the changing room turns to look at him. Joonmyun had already left, but Jongdae still fidgets under the weight of Chanyeol, Baekhyun, Yixing, and Sehun’s stares.

“I just wanted to say thanks for vouching for me,” Jongdae finishes quietly. “I know I’m kind of a mess, but I like playing with you guys.”

Chanyeol is the first to break out into a grin, punching his arm. “Course, dude. That’s what we’re here for—to fix your hot mess.”

Jongdae laughs, flushing.

Yixing smiles at him. “You have natural talent, Jongdae. We just need to work on everything else.”

“ _The Flash_ ,” Chanyeol says into his locker, stripping off his sweaty clothes. “Maybe I should start calling you that.”

“I’m still faster,” Baekhyun butts in stubbornly. “How come I can’t be The Flash?”

“You’re not The Flash,” Sehun sniggers. “You just flash people.”

“Oh _come on_ —” Baekhyun protests as everyone except for Jongdae breaks out into laughter. “That was _one time_ —”

“What?” Jongdae asks curiously, and Yixing shakes his head apologetically.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Okay fine, Baekhyun’s The Flash, but then Jongdae’s Quicksilver,” Chanyeol insists.

“Someone shut up Chanyeol before he geeks out again,” Kyungsoo says irritably, slamming his locker shut and walking out.

Baekhyun smirks. “Kyungsoo smash,” he says, and Chanyeol and Sehun roar with laughter.

Jongdae smiles in spite of himself. “What about Joonmyun?” he asks.

Chanyeol thinks for a moment. “Hawkmoth.”

Baekhyun frowns. “The fuck is that? Is that DC?”

“No,” Chanyeol scoffs in a mock-offended voice. “It’s _Miraculous Ladybug,_ thanks very much.”

Jongdae is relieved that everyone else looks just as confused as he feels. He exchanges an incredulous look with Baekhyun, who shrugs.

“Chanyeol, pretty sure you’re the only one who watches Miraculous Ladybug,” Yixing offers kindly.

“But it’s _so good_ ,” Chanyeol whines. “Adrian and Marinette!!”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, shutting his locker. “Let’s go, you fucking nerd.”

They continue to bicker even when they’ve long past left the rink, and Jongdae smiles, reveling in the company.

“Where do you live?” Yixing asks him as they walk.

Jongdae points off towards the south end of campus. “In the Cainsworth apartments.”

“Isn’t that grad housing?” Sehun chimes in, slowing his pace to walk with them.

“My roommate’s a comp sci grad student,” Jongdae explains. “There was a vacancy, so I was offered it last minute.”

“Lucky.” Yixing shakes his head. “Undergrad housing is nowhere as nice.”

Jongdae is about to respond when all of a sudden he hears someone calling his name. He barely has time to wheel around before someone considerably taller flings his arms around his neck and almost knocks him over.

When he pulls back, Jongin is standing there, his face brilliant with a smile, overnight bag slung over his shoulder. “Surprise!”

“Jongin—” Jongdae stammers, trying to grin back at him despite his confusion. “What—what are you doing here? When did you get here?”

Jongin beams. “I told you I’d come visit. I just got in a few hours ago. Still got that couch available?”

“Damn,” Baekhyun asks, having finally broken again from his argument with Chanyeol. “Who’s this, Jongdae? Boyfriend?”

Jongdae blushes, and Jongin laughs. “No, I’m just his friend. I just flew in.”

Chanyeol grins at him, going slightly pink in the face. “You gonna stay long? Come watch us practice tomorrow.”

Jongdae freezes, realizing that his teammates had no idea that Jongin knew nothing. Even now, he can see the confusion evident on Jongin’s face.

“Practice?” Jongin asks, turning to him frowning. “What practice? Do they skate too?”

Chanyeol laughs, totally oblivious to Jongdae’s pleading eyes. “Well duh—it’s _hockey_ , of course we skate.”

Jongdae freezes, eyes falling shut, almost unwilling to look at Jongin's face.

"Jongdae—" Jongin begins slowly, his brows knitting together. "What are they talking about? You don't play hockey."

This time it's Chanyeol's turn to frown, although Jongdae can see when it registers on Baekhyun and Yixing's faces.

"We'll be going now," Baekhyun says pointedly, tugging on Chanyeol's arms. Yixing pulls Sehun along, and then all too soon Jongdae is left with Jongin.

"Jongin." Jongdae glances down at his feet before looking up at him again. He's forgotten how much taller than him Jongin is, and it's even more apparent now that Jongin's eyes gleam with a certain kind of betrayal. "I was going to tell you, I swear."

"Tell me what?" Jongin demands. "That you're quitting figure skating? For—for _hockey_?"

Jongdae flinches back. "Don't say it like that—I'm not quitting figure skating—" he says. "I just wanted to try—"

"Try what?" Jongin takes a step forward into Jongdae's space, and this is the first time that he's ever seen Jongin look so angry. "All this time I thought you were still as serious about figure skating as I am—and your dad has even—" Jongin stops now, eyes wide. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jongdae asks, trying not to panic. "Look, Jongin, why don't we go back to my apartment?"

He tries to take Jongin's overnight bag from him, but Jongin just stands and stares at him accusingly. "Your dad doesn't know, does he."

All the color blanches out of Jongdae's face and this Jongin doesn't resist when Jongdae drags him off to the side, out of the center of the campus walkway. "Jongin—" Jongdae says quietly, desperately. "You're not going to tell him, are you?"

Jongin continues to look at him, all he scrutiny and accusation slowly bleeding out of his face. He shakes his head. "I wouldn't do that," he says finally. "But you have to tell him, Jongdae."

Jongdae nods, swallowing over the lump in his throat. "I will, I just—" He looks down at his feet. "I'm not ready."

"Did you really join the hockey team, Jongdae?" There's a smile in Jongin's voice that makes him look up, and now the smile is on his best friend's face.

Jongdae does his best to return the smile. "Yeah. Crazy, right?"

Jongin laughs shakily. Relief rushes through Jongdae's body, chasing out the tension that had coiled up tight in his bones. "Totally crazy. You're like, tiny."

"Shut up," Jongdae says, but he's grinning now.

Jongin looks down now at the ground, scuffing the sole of his sneaker against the cement. "Can I watch you?"

"Hmm?"

Jongin shrugs, fiddling with the straps of his bag. "That tall guy said you guys have practice tomorrow."

"Oh," Jongdae says. "Right."

"Yeah. Can I watch?"

Jongdae flushes. "I'm not that good."

Jongin grins again, swinging his bag off his shoulders and shoving it into Jongdae's chest. "Let me be the one to decide that."

 

❆

 

Jongdae watches as Jongin breathes in the chill air from the rink, laughing at the obvious exhilaration on his face.

"Should've brought my skates," Jongin says, amused. "Didn't think I'd be back at the rink so soon after leaving home."

"Just sit down," Jongdae says, laughing. "Don't go anywhere, okay?"

Jongin grins and gives him a thumbs up, and Jongdae runs off to the locker room to change.

Throughout the entire practice, Jongdae is acutely aware of Jongin's eyes on him, and he resolutely tries to put it out of his head. He's falling a lot less now, having gotten used to Chanyeol's skates, so at least he doesn't have to worry about face planting into the ice in from of Jongin.

" _Wow_ ," is the first thing out of Jongin's mouth when Jongdae emerges from the locker room three hours later.

"What," Jongdae laughs. "I wasn't that bad."

"No," Jongin agrees, then smirks. "But you were having some major UST with your captain."

Jongdae goes a brilliant red. "That's—"

"Don't take it personally." Baekhyun appears from behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and smirking. "Joonmyun has unintentional UST with everyone."

“Hawkmoth,” Chanyeol says, nodding very seriously. He follows Baekhyun out of rink before Jongdae gets a chance to say anything else.

Jongin shakes his head. “You have weird teammates.”

Jongdae laughs. “You’re right,” he says. “But I like them anyway.”

 

❆

 

Jongdae goes back to the rink that night.

Jongin had taken a taxi back to the airport earlier that evening, needing to get back to his rigorous training schedule. _“I’ll come back another time,_ ” he’d promised. _“Next time for longer.”_

It's almost closing time when he gets to the rink, so the ice is almost empty as he slips on his figure skates, wiggling his toes against the stiff leather. He rubs his hands together and steps onto the ice.

And this, he thinks, as his skates slice across the ice, is what he'd been missing.

His winning number had been choreographed to Joe Hisashi’s “The Dragon Boy.” Jongdae had picked it out with great purpose, ignoring his father’s suggestions to go with a musical piece with less force behind it.

Jongdae can hear it in his head now, and in his mind he can see himself there on the ice, all lycra and chiffon and polyester, fingertips numb with chill, every inch of his body building towards that final jarring chord.

It had been the triple toe loop that secured his win. Jongdae had been under rotating it for many weeks leading up to the championship, but not that time.

Jongdae digs his heels in and launches himself across the rink. His body falls into his junior championship routine almost automatically, and the jump is just a natural progression.

He lands it perfectly. Jongdae glides to a gentle stop and only when he looks up does he realize that someone is watching him.

It's Joonmyun.

Joonmyun is leaning over the back of the first row of seats, face unreadable. "That was incredible," he says, and his voice seems a hundred times louder in the emptiness. Jongdae swallows.

"I didn't know you were watching."

Joonmyun shakes his head. "Your roommate told me you were here."

"Were you looking for me?"

"Well," Joonmyun says. "I wanted to discuss the starting lineup with you. Yixing and I had a talk. So did the other starters."

"And?"

Joonmyun gives him that look again, the one that makes the heat rise high in his face and drop all the way down to his toes. "They want you on the starting lineup."

This. This is that jump. Jongdae is spinning, his arms and legs tucked tight into his body, and he's landed. This is that jump, this is that landing. He's made it alive and in one piece.

Jongdae’s breath leaves him in a reverent exhale. “But—I’m still _terrible_ , I still can’t check or anything—”

“You don’t have to be good enough to start on this team,” Joonmyun cuts him off, and it's like something is clearing from his vision, and Jongdae remembers falling. He is seven and falling on his hands for the first time, he is twenty one and falling again—forwards and backwards and maybe _a little too fast,_ but it’s okay.

“You just have to fit.” Joonmyun gives him that same secretive smile. “The team just has to trust you.”

“And—” Jongdae’s hands quiver on the side railings. “The team trusts me?”

“I trust you,” Joonmyun says simply. “But we have some work to do.”

Jongdae beams. “Don’t you mean a lot of work to do?”

And Joonmyun, miraculously, _laughs_. Jongdae stares at him, confused, until Joonmyun lifts up a bag from behind the backboard. It takes Jongdae a second to realize it’s his duffel bag.

“Put your hockey skates on,” Joonmyun says, grinning. He pushes open the sidegate and Jongdae realizes that he’s in _his_ skates.

“Are you serious?” Jongdae breathes, mouth gaping. “It’s almost closing time.”

“We have a game on the 27th.” Joonmyun steps over the divided, the blades of his skates flashing bright and silver. He pulls something else over the sidegate, and Jongdae’s breath catches in his chest.

It’s a brand new hockey stick. Joonmyun holds it out to him, and the smile is genuine this time.

Jongdae takes it, testing the weight of the shaft in his palm, the texture of the grip tape. He looks up at Joonmyun.

“We’re going to win.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> i would like to thank my prompter for introducing me to such a cute webcomic. even though i ended up not sticking very closely to the source material, it was such a nice find! i admit the ending of this is very rushed. if you'd ever like to hear my other ideas about how this fic might end, i would love to tell you :) many thanks to n and y for all the hockey and skating help!!! i apologize if there are any inaccuracies left over. ♡


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